


A Timely Convergence of Melodies

by stifledlaughter



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, M/M, Metalcore, Romance, no angst only fun vibes here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stifledlaughter/pseuds/stifledlaughter
Summary: The concert billing: Venice Beach Trash as opener, Miragen as headliner.And sure, the concert itself was memorable, but what happened afterwards, well, that's the kind of stuff songs are written about.[Metalcore Band alternate universe]
Relationships: Akashi Seijuurou/Furihata Kouki, Aomine Daiki/Momoi Satsuki, Himuro Tatsuya/Murasakibara Atsushi, Kagami Taiga/Kuroko Tetsuya, Kasamatsu Yukio/Kise Ryouta, Midorima Shintarou/Takao Kazunari
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	1. kickdrum heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> Ever sit around and go, "These basketball boys are good at sports but what if they were screaming out their feelings on a stage in ripped jeans and eyeliner instead?" 
> 
> This is going to be an indulgent and light-hearted fic with each chapter focusing on a different ship. I don't have plans yet for which chapters will feature which ships but the first chapter is MuraMuro! 
> 
> Not every chapter will be as explicit as this one or contain sexual content but all of them will have a romantic component to them. (Just setting up expectations!)
> 
> Also, I know nothing about the actual music industry, and this is no way reflective of real concerts/musicians' lives/how anything in that industry works. This is a fun and indulgent fic with no angst, just good times, in a fantasy world where you can make a living as a musician and have a good time playing concerts with your friends. 
> 
> Songs that inspired this piece are "Auto-de-Fe" and "Fear Slows" by 'Apart and Divided' and "Paranoid" by 'She, in the haze'.

Scaling the house (which was giant, and had expansive yardspace on all sides- what sugar daddy was fueling this band?) was the easy part, once he'd found out which room was the drummer's. Even though he had done a show tonight and should be exhausted, he was running on extreme adrenaline, especially after seeing the headlining band perform. Plus, with the venue's strict rules on noise violations after 11pm, it ended fairly early compared to other shows he'd done in America. Which left plenty of time for other entertainments.

He saw that the window was open, and yep, his target at a desk on his phone, tapping away. Himuro thanked the architect of the house as he slunk, shadowlike, across the stone outcroppings that were wide enough for feet, reaching the window easily. He tapped a few times on the windowsill to get the other man's attention, and then when he heard a creaking chair sound, as if someone was turning to the window, he slowly got up, propping himself up to rest on the sill. 

"You probably shouldn't be in the window like that," says the man lazily, not even getting up at the disturbance happening in his room. He was topless, with sweatpants hanging low at his hips "You could fall backwards and die on the street."

"So are you inviting me in, then?"

"Mhmmm." The lilt at the end implied a yes, as did the subtle up-down glance of positive assessment. With that Himuro languidly slid into the room, his thigh knives glinting in the low lamplight. He stopped a few feet away from the desk where his target was lounging. 

The man raised his hand, and Himuro felt a jolt of excitement zip through his stomach, but he only brushed back his hair, not at all reaching for Himuro. 

A pity.

"You were in the opening band tonight. I remember you. You scream really well." The man's voice was low, but surprisingly not rough. 

Himuro smiled, sharp-edged. "Would you like to hear more of that?" 

The man raised an eyebrow in interest. His long violet hair shifted as he stood up, loose around his shoulders. As the man looked down on Himuro, he realized that this room in particular had arched, cathedral-like ceilings. Probably useful when you were... Christ, what was this guy, at least seven feet tall? He was so much bigger up close. _Hell fucking yes,_ thought Himuro, grinning. 

"Maybe," said the man. "How did you get this address?" 

Himuro shrugged. "Your bassist invited my guitarist over tonight, so I tracked his phone since I figured you all lived together like Taiga, Alex and I do. Just to make sure that guy wasn't going to kill my brother. Seems like he isn't the type, judging by what conversation I overheard, so I decided to pay you a visit instead. I saw you through the window when I was on the rooftop over there."

"I see," said the man, his eyes trailing up and down Himuro. If the tight black v-neck and gray, ripped booty shorts, and ankle boots didn't grab him, Himuro had read the guy wrong, but judging by the lingering gaze, he hadn't read him wrong at all.

"Like what you see?" asked Himuro, walking forward, swaying his hips slightly. He could hear the Kagami-of-his-mind calling him out for being unnecessarily slutty but frankly, if you didn't throw yourself at the hot drummer of the magical band on stage last night while wearing thigh knives, what's the fucking point of being a musician? 

The man's eyes lit up as he watched Himuro move closer towards him. "Do you know who I am?" 

"A damn good drummer and really hot," said Himuro, leaning over to place his hands on the drummer's chest. The man didn't move, but Himuro felt the shift of breath under his hands. A steady, thumping, heavy heartbeat. It must have the power of a train engine to work blood through this guy. 

"Had you heard of Miragen before?" asked the man, seeming slightly put out.

"We just got here from America. I haven't gotten to know all of the Japanese metalcore bands that well yet." Himuro trailed his hands up higher, higher, his elegant fingers skimming the man's neck and then twirling into his hair. "Pleasure to meet you. Himuro Tatsuya, lead singer and bassist of Venice Beach Trash."

"Murasakibara Atsushi, drummer of Miragen." 

"That's a long name, Atsushi." Himuro already knew it from when they announced the band's lineup, and had been thinking about it since he saw them perform. He'd been mesmerized since the first song. 

"First names already?"

"Can't help it. That's the American in me."

Atsushi blinked slowly at Himuro, but didn't remove his hands, which was a good sign. Clearly the man could pick Himuro up and hurl him out the window with ease if he wasn't into this. Himuro figured he had a good read on the guy, given how he was reacting so far. 

Atsushi pulled Himuro closer, splaying his hands across his slim back. They almost entirely covered his upper torso. 

"Murochin," said Atsushi, tasting the name with relish. 

"Louder," insisted Himuro, pressing up against Atsushi's fantastic, hard torso. 

The man's voice rumbled as he picked Himuro up, cupping his ass in his hands and holding him close. "Noisy thing, Murochin" he said, but indeed it was louder. 

Himuro grinned and looped his arms around Atsushi's broad shoulders, feeling the pleasantly firm muscles underneath. He nudged the other man's nose with his own, and when he didn't move back but instead gave a small sigh, Himuro fully went in, committing hard.

He wasn't sure what to expect - he assumed the guy would let him do all of the work, but after the initial kiss, they both were passionately engaging with each other. In what felt like a slow build, they slowly gained eagerness and pressure. Himuro let out a satisfied groan and was immensely vindicated by the mirrored groan back.

Atsushi leaned against the wall, squeezing Himuro closer to him, one hand now holding him up while the other pressed against Himuro's back. The only sounds between them were gasps and moans, the other sound being the brushing against the drywall as they shifted. 

"Wait," said Atsushi, and Himuro shifted back, staying still. Atsushi squeezed Himuro tightly to him with one hand as he reached out for his phone with the other, and with a few taps, music filled the room.

"Nice sound system," said Himuro, taking in the various setups that made it so the whole room was filled with pulsing, shredding vocals and guitars. "Do you always fuck to music?"

"Who said anything about fucking?" said Atsushi as he proceeded to slide his hand up Himuro's shirt, nosing into the slender man's neck and biting down hard. 

Himuro groaned and tilted his head back. "I mean if this is all we do, that's fine. But if this isn't making you want more, I'm doing a poor job of seducing you."

"We'll see," said Atsushi, who, in one fluid motion, scooped Himuro up and deposited him on the bed, laying him out. 

Himuro immediately lifted his legs and ground them up against Atsushi's jeans, keeping his face neutral as the man above him jerked and shuddered. "I guess I have my work cut out for me then."

Atsushi growled, but but it was not a sound of displeasure. He set himself up to be over Himuro, careful not to put his full weight on top of him, but instead hovered like a paused push up. Himuro blinked with surprise as Atsushi initiated the next kiss, and sighed as he felt the weight descend on him.

"You said you'd scream for me," said Atsushi, pulling away from the kiss to look Himuro firmly in the eye. "What's the best way to do that?"

"Shouldn't you puzzle it out?" asked Himuro, curious what this man might try to go for first. "You think I'm just going to give away my secrets?"

Pushing down on Himuro's chest with one arm, Atsushi moved down slowly, rucking up the tight t-shirt. "Hmmm. I'll look for a way until I get bored."

 _Bored?_ thought Himuro, feeling indignant. Either this guy was fucking with him, or Himuro would have to step it up. 

"I want these off," said Atsushi, pulling a few times on the booty shorts that might as well have been painted onto Himuro's ass. "And the shirt. But not these." He moved his hands down to the thigh knives.

"Something interesting about them?" said Himuro, his voice low, sultry. 

"Mmm," said Atsushi, not elaborating but pulling down the booty shorts, which were unfortunately hindered by the thigh knives garters. "Fix it."

 _I definitely have my work cut out for me._ But fuck, the guy was ripped- big, hard biceps, abs so sharp you could grate cheese on them, and gorgeous eyes. So yeah, he'd play along. 

Quickly shrugging off his shirt, Himuro briefly undid the straps, laying the knives down as he slid off the shorts to reveal, nope, he wasn't wearing any underwear. Himuro was rewarded with violet eyes widening briefly, and then narrowing in focus. He couldn't hear it over the pounding music, but judging by the chest flex, he'd inhaled sharply too. 

_Excellent._ He started to reach down and hook his straps back on, noting the hooded pleasure in Atsushi's eyes as he did so. "Looks like someone has a danger kink," Himuro commented, making his movements languid and slow. 

Atsushi did not look away from Himuro's legs and instead said, "You're the one who came into a stranger's room with only tiny little knives for protection. I could crush you. Right now." 

Himuro didn't deny the thrill that ran up his spine at that. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I like the marks you might leave if you crush me." 

But Atsushi didn't do that. Instead he hungrily pulled Himuro closer to him and nuzzled his thighs and stomach, and Himuro was pleased to feel that the violet hair was as soft as he imagined. He threaded his fingers through it, and gave an light pull. 

"Keep doing that and I'll leave all the marks you want," said Atsushi as he kissed down Himuro's thighs, and then slowly, carefully, licked down one of the knives. 

"You don't know where those have been," said Himuro, not showing on his face how that turned him on in ways he hadn't previously known. He kept his grip on the soft, violet hair, and gave an experimental harder tug, watching with joy as Atsushi jerked up against the bed in response. 

"I don't know where you've been either," replied Atsushi, not stopping playing with the knives, seeing how it made Himuro watch with rapt attention. Himuro stared at him with growing desperation, knowing that mouth could be far better put to use elsewhere. 

"If you're asking my status, I tested negative for everything before showing up here in Japan," replied Himuro. "So feel free to get along with what you're planning." 

"And if I continue to do this?" said Atsushi, firmly biting the inside of Himuro's thigh, making good on that marking comment. 

_Fuck._ Himuro had an excellent poker face, true, but even he couldn't restrain his full body shudder at the sensation of the teeth's grip on his skin. His ring necklace jingled as he trembled, forcing himself to go still. Instead of responding verbally, Himuro wound the hair in his hand around his fist and slowly, carefully, pulled, twisting it and sighing with pleasure as he watched Atsushi grind up on the bed even more. 

"If you keep doing that, I'll keep doing this," said Himuro, measuring his breaths to pace them out. "And you won't get to hear me scream because you'll come first." 

Atsushi looked up at Himuro, his face thoughtful. "Hmmm. Murochin is maybe right."

And then he completely enveloped Himuro's cock with his mouth in a single movement.

_Holy mother of -_

_"Fuck,"_ swore Himuro out loud, arching up into it, letting out a loud, shuddery moan. "Jesus fucking- do you swallow swords or something? _Christ_." The vibrations from the music trembled through his back and made him feel shivery, alive, like when he was on stage. 

In lieu of answering, Atsushi continued his work, his hands gripping firmly into Himuro's thighs and holding them down to the bed. Himuro pleasantly thrashed against him, pulling desperately at Atsushi's hair. As it continued, Himuro lost himself in the sensations, the music around him enveloping like a heavy, pulsing blanket. Himuro felt fingers squeezing deep into his leg muscles, and hazily thought of how good the bruises would look the next day. "Harder," he moaned, his voice breaking, bucking up against Atsushi's hands and relishing being held down. 

Instead, Atsushi pulled off his cock, sitting up, and immediately started digging around in the nightstand. 

Himuro exhaled a sigh of frustration. "What, did I accidentally say that in English or something? Looking for a dictionary?" 

"No, but I think I want to make you scream now," said Atsushi, "And I think I figured out how."

Himuro liked where this was going when he saw what Atsushi was bringing out. "Oh hell yes." 

Atsushi set aside the condom and flicked open the cap of the lube bottle with long fingers, slicking them up copiously. Himuro trailed one of his feet over to Atsushi's still-clothed sweatpants, nudging at his delightfully hard cock. "You should have taken these off first."

"I'll do it when I feel like it," said Atsushi, the hint of stubbornness giving Himuro a thrill, because he'd love to see what this guy was like when he was doing things he felt passionate about doing. If it was anything like how he sucked cock, it was going to be a fantastic time. 

"Well then," said Himuro, pulling his knees up and crooking a finger. "What do you feel like doing?"

Apparently, as Himuro quickly learned, it was fingering him out of his damn mind, slowly at first, and then increasing in strength.

"You like being held down," noted Atsushi as Himuro squirmed against him, panting heavily, now two fingers in, which, compared to other experiences, was already more than usual, given the size of those _fucking hands._

"You getting tired of doing it?" breathed out Himuro, his eyes flicking up towards the gorgeous violet eyes carefully, thoughtfully watching him.

"No," said Atsushi. "Could hold you down as long as I wanted." He slid in a third finger, and Himuro groaned, biting his lip and looking skyward. "Too much?" 

"God I hope not, if I'll be taking you," replied Himuro, already eyeing the sweatpants bulge like a gift under wrapping paper. 

"It may be too much," said Atsushi in a thoughtful tone, flexing his fingers. "This is also okay. I could probably make you scream like this." 

Himuro snaked out one of his legs and used it to pull Atsushi's torso closer, causing his hand to shove in deeper for a second. " _More_ ," he said, his voice firm. 

Atsushi's eyes lit up, sparkling like amethysts, and by the time he pulled his fingers out, Himuro was nearly unable to form words, clawing at Atsushi, growling, "Come on, come on-"

Swiftly, Atsushi divested himself of his sweatpants, barely giving Himuro a chance to look over his nude body before sliding on the condom and slicking himself with lube. He leaned over Himuro, holding himself up with one arm while using his other hand to brush aside his bangs. "Pretty," he commented, and before Himuro could respond, slid himself inside.

Exhaling shakily, Himuro relaxed his body, looked up into Atsushi's eyes, which were briefly unclouded by lust and instead flickered with worry. "I got this," said Himuro, keeping up his bravado, wondering if he had bit off more than he could chew, but as seconds passed, he adjusted, Atsushi holding absolutely still. He closed his eyes, and then opened them again, saying, "Is this what you feel like doing?"

"I'm want to squeeze you and fuck you until you scream," said Atsushi. "And feel it with my whole body as I make you come." 

"Oh good, that's exactly what I want too." With that, Himuro grinned and reached his arm up, threading his hand through Atsushi's hair again, pulling him close, kissing hard while thrusting up with his hips. 

And that's when Himuro realized that this was, indeed, exactly what Atsushi had been aiming for this whole time, because he felt like what had been a candle flame before had become a blowtorch. Himuro felt himself being lifted up, squeezed closely to Atsushi's chest as he was thrust into, carefully, evenly. His whole body was cradled, held tightly as Atsushi alternated between kissing his mouth and nuzzling into the crook of his neck and shoulder, biting intensely. He hoped he'd be marked all over, and given how sore his legs and neck already felt, he was well on his way there. 

"Pretty Murochin," said Atsushi into his ear, breathing heavily as he started to thrust faster. "Be louder, louder-"

Himuro moaned, the sound dragging out of his throat, rich and hoarse, but Atsushi seemed unsatisfied with that, upping his speed. "Louder, louder, scream for me-"

It wasn't until Atsushi upped the pace, slamming hard and then holding, pulling out, slamming again and biting into Himuro's neck more did the moans become longer, developing more into-

"Good," growled Atsushi as Himuro clawed one hand at his back, the other gripping his hair and twisting around it, screaming, moaning, until he came so hard he couldn't even tell if he was still making noises or not. Judging by how Atsushi increased his speed and began exhaling heavily into his ear, he probably was. 

Tight, tight, everything was so squeezed around him and he lost himself in how _much_ everything around him, he was being crushed under the pressure of the depths of the ocean, sinking, joyfully drowning, it was too much too much oh god just the right amount too much _was_ the right amount-

And then, suddenly, the pressure lifted, and Himuro felt himself being laid down. and realized that, in his haze of losing himself to the pressure, Atsushi had come. He started to move, but was gently pushed back to the mattress as Atsushi grabbed some wipes from the drawer and cleaned Himuro off. Himuro, unused to this sort of attentiveness, stayed still and watched as Atsushi, in a weird tender way that made Himuro's heart skitter, wiped down his knives too. 

_This better now awaken anything in me,_ thought Himuro as Atsushi settled in next to him, tucking his head into Himuro's chest. Violet eyes looked up at him, expectant of something, and Himuro felt something seize in his chest. 

_Ah. Fuck. I have to go before- before-_

"That was epic, Atsushi," Himuro said, eyes flickering over to the window. "I mean, I didn't expect it to suck but that was way better than I thought it would be. Thanks for the ride." He started to get up, but was unexpectedly held down by those giant, gorgeous hands.

"You're leaving?" 

Himuro's brain froze. _Oh._ "Yeah? We had a good time, right?"

Atsushi frowned. "It doesn't have to end here. Stay. I'm a good cuddler. I'm warm and make a good big spoon."

 _It's June in Tokyo. It's also warm out there,_ thought Himuro. _But damn you probably make a great big spoon, don't you? Ugh. Dammit._

He had always bounced immediately after, sometimes awkwardly fast if it wasn't that good of a lay, because things were easier that way. But the way Atsushi was looking at him, Himuro felt drawn to stay, to curl up next to that chest and be like a king within the walls of a castle. 

"Fine," said Himuro. "But the cuddling better be excellent." 

Atsushi pulled Himuro immediately in, and Himuro bitterly admitted in his head that it was top-fucking-notch.

That is, until there was a pounding on his door, and he heard, "Oi! That you, Tatsuya? Are you alive in there?" 

"Taiga?" 

"Oh thank god. I could hear you screaming from the goddamn kitchen." 

Tatsuya sighed and got up as Atsushi reached for his phone to turn off the music. He slid on his shorts and opened the door to a concerned Kagami in the common space, which was a large loft overlooking the front door. "Yeah, I'm fine. And you're alive too." And that's when he saw a husky above five feet behind his brother, panting happily, sniffing the air. "Holy shit, you're still in the same room as a dog?" 

Kagami scowled. "You're still in the same room as someone you just fucked?"

"Fair," said Tatsuya, shrugging. "Where's the dude you were with? The, uh..." Why couldn't he remember anything about the guy?

"The bassist. I was making tea with Kuroko in the kitchen. Well, was, until I heard what sounded like you screaming and came upstairs." 

"What, you couldn't tell it was good time screaming?" 

"I _can_ tell the difference, I just wanted to be sure though-"

"Murochin?" Atsushi walked over, thankfully with his sweatpants on, as Tatsuya knew his brother had this (rather prude) complex about strangers and nudity. Himuro took a second to admire his abs again because the guy was delightfully muscled, with a lovely, _lovely_ violet happy trail. 

Kagami glanced up and down at the guy. "Called it. You always go for the tall ones." 

"Is this your brother?" asked Atsushi, his eyes flickering over Kagami, settling on the matching necklace. 

"Yeah- Kagami Taiga, meet Murasakibara Atsushi," said Himuro. "Anyway-"

"Oh _hell yeah_ this place is huge!" shouted someone from the foyer, slamming the front door open. 

Himuro stepped outside of the room, looking over at Kagami with a questioning face, and the brothers both called out, confused, "Alex?"

"[You're both here! Great! I'll hug you guys once I get this guy on the couch]," she yelled in English, and they peered over the railing to see her with a familiar man piggybacked onto her, with a beautiful, pink-haired woman laughing behind them. "[Idiot thought he could drink me under the table.]" 

"[The lead guitarist challenged Alex to a drinking game]?" asked Kagami. "[Are they sure he's not dead?]" He headed back to the stairs, keeping an eye on Alex as she dropped the guy on the couch. 

"[Oh, we're speaking English now?]" Someone else popped their head out of a door, blonde hair artfully mussed, expertly-eyelined eyes alight. "Oh, hi, Murasakibaracchi! You got laid too?"

"Too?" 

"Hey, Kise! Way to go man!" Another head popped out of a door, and Himuro recognized him as the lighting guy, who also was shirtless. "Only took you two years to seduce my boy Yukio but good things come to those who wait - ow, Shin-chan, I'm coming back to bed, no need to rush-"

"Don't be stupid, it's not about that, put on a shirt before you go out of the room-"

"Is there a reason for all of this noise?" The front door had opened again in the chaos, revealing two men, both holding violin cases, one of them looking up at the loft with a frown and an imperiously arched eyebrow. 

Kise gaped openly and gleefully yelped, "Akashicchi, you've got someone too!" 

The lighting guy had finally found a shirt and stepped out into the common room, fist pumping into the air as the keyboardist of Miragen stepped out behind him, looking like an elegantly disgruntled cat. "Eyyyy Furi, nice to see you're still alive after the show- whoa, are you _with_ Akashi?" 

"Oh, oh no, it's not like that-" stammered the man in the black vest standing awkwardly in the foyer, holding a battered violin case to his chest. "We're just - going to play some music in his room-"

The members of Miragen in the common area or from their doors all glanced around at each other, and Himuro wondered if they had developed telepathy during their time together because he could tell they all were thinking the same thing. Which was _We don't understand what's happening but we're sure as fuck not going to interfere._

"Well, have a good time!" squeaked Kise, who then quickly shut his door, but couldn't quite muffle the "Holy shit he never brings anyone home, _oh my god this is huge_ -" squealing, to which the person inside snapped, "Shhh!" 

"We can still hear you, Kisechin," sighed Atsushi. "This is all very annoying." He scooped up Himuro by the waist. "We're going back to bed." 

"Bye, Taiga, have fun, use protection!" called out Himuro, grinning as Taiga flushed deeply and slammed the door shut.

"I'll have to find out what all that was about later," said Himuro as he was placed on the bed, sprawling out. 

"Mmm," replied Atsushi, sliding in next to him. "Later." 

Himuro couldn't argue with the hands dragging over his hips, squeezing his legs and fondling his knife straps, and he smiled. "Much later."


	2. In a New Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are you doing after the show?" asked Kise.  
> Kasamatsu frowned. "Probably grabbing something to eat and then going home?"   
> "There's a great noodle place down the road that's open all night," said Kise, his golden eyes sparkling. "I go there a lot after shows."   
> "Thanks for the recommendation," said Kasamatsu, feeling that he was missing something. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned in the first chapter, not every chapter is as explicit as the first one, and some may not be explicit at all. Just tempering your expectations!  
> Enjoy the KiKasa chapter!

"You know he has like, the biggest hard-on for you?" 

"Excuse me?" Kasamatsu put down the box and turned to face the man leaning against the door. "Oh, it's you. The hell are you talking about, Aomine?"

"You aren't stupid, but how else have you missed Kise's giant twelve-year-old-girl crush on you? You know - Kise? Our blond singer? The one who looks your way during any love song?" 

"I really doubt you can categorize 'Crushed by Thor's Hammer' as a love song," said Kasamatsu, resuming stacking his boxes. "And yes, I know him, you guys have played here for two years. Of course I do." 

Kise, the former-model-now-musician who still managed to draw in crowds of poppy-idol girls who were incredibly out of their comfort zone at metal shows, ones Kasamatsu had to always rescue them from the pit. Kise, the one who always brought 'his favorite bouncer' (his words, not Kasamatsu's) cups of water when the band wasn't performing on stage. The one who always complimented his biceps, his thighs, his back, openly and without care if anyone heard. 

"He flirts with everyone," said Kasamatsu, taking a break from his box-stacking to walk over to Aomine. "He hasn't even ever confirmed that I'm into dudes." He grabbed his water bottle and took a long swig to avoid having to further this conversation.

"After the one time we caught you sucking face with the lighting guy, he cried for like, a week," said Aomine, and Kasamatsu coughed, nearly choking. 

"What?" he spluttered after he was able to breathe again.

"Oh, you thought you were hiding something? Yeah, fun fact, dude, we all saw that as we were taking our gear out to the van that one time."

Kasamatsu groaned and put his face in his hands. As fun as that night had been with Takao, they'd both agreed they weren't really suited for each other and called it a one-time thing. They were better off as coworkers. But he had kind of hoped no one else had seen that, because both of them realized it wasn't really going to work out pretty quickly and they didn't want things to be weird at work.

"Are you sure that breakdown was even about me?" said Kasamatsu, trying to not let the hope in his voice be too evident. "He seems like a... sensitive guy in general." 

"I'm not gonna repeat what he said but yes, it was about you, and it was dramatic and embarrassing as fuck." Aomine opened his mouth as if he was about to say something else, but then a large hand reached out and tapped him on the head.

"Akachin says we have to be backstage now." 

"We don't even go on for- ugh. I'll be there." Aomine waved the hand off and turned back to Kasamatsu. "Anyway, if you could throw him a boner and put us out of our misery of having to hear about your calves for like, another week, that'd be amazing, thanks."

"Why do you say things like that-" started Kasamatsu, exasperated, but Aomine vanished. Speedy little asshole. 

Kasamatsu would have thought about it more but the new opening band was moving their stuff off of the stage and he had to go help before Miragen opened their set.

\----

They were in the third song of the Miragen set when it happened. 

Kasamatsu barely saw the man get yanked into the circle pit, as he was standing too close for a bystander, and the brief second of panic in the man's eyes made it clear it was never his intention to get pulled in so he was incredibly out of his depth. While normally Kasamatsu let the pit sort itself out, something told him he was going to be needed, so he dove in, hands outstretched to nab the man from the floor, who was already being picked up by the concert-goers who were used to newbies biting the dust quickly. They passed the man off to him, and he swiftly pulled him out. 

"You okay?" yelled Kasamatsu over the sound of Miragen. The guy's eyes were incredibly wide, and he kept casting glances over his shoulder at the stage. 

"Um - yeah, I think -yeah-" 

"Let's get you some water," said Kasamatsu, figuring a second away from the crowd would calm him down. Now that he was getting a good look at the guy, the more he seemed out of place. He was wearing black skinny jeans and a black vest, but else nothing that would say, 'I'm here for a metalcore show'. 

"It's okay, I'm alright," said the guy, waving his hands, slightly manic, and Kasamatsu sighed. 

"You should stay on the edges of the crowd, unless you want to get into the circle pit again. It's your first metal show, isn't it?"

"That obvious?" asked the guy. "My friend Takao invited me - he does the lights-"

Kasamatsu growled lowly. Of course Takao would invite a newbie but not inform him of the pit; he probably didn't even think about that kind of stuff after working here so long. "I'll ream him out for that later. In the meantime, water is on the far end of the bar. I recommend you hydrate sooner rather than later." With that he looked to the door again, keeping an eye out for any more baby-deer types. Before he headed over though, he looked at the guy and said, "You enjoying the show?"

"Yeah," breathed out the guy, looking at the stage with wonder in his eyes. Kasamatsu followed his stare and noticed it fixated on the violinist. 

_Oh hell. Good luck with that, dude._

\----

"Senpai that was _amazing_ ," said Kise, cornering Kasamatsu after the show. "You pulled him out so quick!" 

"It's my job," said Kasamatsu, mildly annoyed. "You don't think I'd do my job?" 

"But it looked so heroic," replied Kise, his eyes starry. "You looked so cool, Senpai."

"We aren't students, you don't have to senpai me," Kasamatsu reminded him for the (probably) eighty-fourth time. 

Kise, per usual, ignored this. "What are you doing after the show?"

Kasamatsu frowned. "Probably grabbing something to eat and then going home?" 

"There's a great noodle place down the road that's open all night," said Kise, his golden eyes sparkling. "I go there a lot after shows." 

"Thanks for the recommendation," said Kasamatsu, feeling that he was missing something. 

"Yeah, it's one of my favorite places," said Kise, who was basically thrumming with energy at this point, despite that he'd just done an incredibly long set.

"Fucking idiot," said Aomine loudly, walking by, carrying an amp. "Actually, make that plural, fucking _idiots_. Let me know when you're done with this stupid middle school standoff. Remember my advice from earlier, Kise, unless that crawled out of your brain and died during our set."

"Rude, Aomicchi!" yelped Kise, and then it clicked. 

"Are you asking me to go with you?" said Kasamatsu, kind of dumbfounded. "Don't you have like, five girls who came to see you in the audience?"

"Oh, from the fanclub? Eh, I can see them at fan events," said Kise, waving his hand. "Do you want to go together, Senpai?" 

He didn't really have a reason to say no. And it wasn't like Kise was bad company, but he'd only known him in work contexts. So maybe he was different when he wasn't at a show.

_Eh, what the hell. Why not._

\-----

The noodle place _was_ good, at least, from what he could smell. Kasamatsu suspected that they were only seated instantly and in a choice location because the hostess was deeply smitten with Kise, who flashed her a blinding smile. After she put down their menus and walked away, Kasamatsu spared her further embarrassment by determinedly not looking as he heard her walk into a wall and said, "Do you always come here after shows?"

"Not always, but I try to," said Kise. "Senpai, you should get the beef broth noodles, that's their specialty here." 

"Hm," said Kasamatsu, skimming the menu, not really reading it but instead buying time to figure out what the hell was going on. "Why aren't you out with your bandmates after the show?" 

Kise shrugged. "I live with them. I can see them whenever. Akachin always insists on taking our equipment back so it's not like we're needed or anything. Besides," he said, something mischievous in his eyes. "From what I saw, some of them may be otherwise occupied."

"I... guess?" said Kasamatsu, flipping through the menu, trying not to muse too much on what that could possibly mean. 

The waitress came by again (a little fast, Kasamatsu noted) but he just ordered the beef broth noodles along with Kise, When she left, Kise propped up his face in his hands and smiled, once again blinding. "Thank you for coming out with me, Senpai! It's nice to hear your voice without you having to shout over the music. Or Aomicchi's swearing."

"Uh, yeah, definitely. He swears a lot." _What are we supposed to talk about?_ wondered Kasamatsu. Sure, he'd known this band for two years, but only in that way coworkers who see each other every few weeks know each other. 

"Why do you work at the venue?" asked Kise, and Kasamatsu grabbed at the lifeline, because at least he knew the answer to that question. 

"I'm going to business school for sports management, and working nights doesn't interfere with classes. And it's late enough that I have time to put my little brothers to bed when my dad's shipped out for military duty." 

Kise's eyes lit up at that. "Little brothers! Do they look like you? Are they as cool as you?"

Kasamatsu snorted. "I mean, I look like my dad the most, but my little brothers take after my mom more. And I don't know about cool but they both play basketball like I used to, which I guess you could call a cool sport." 

"What position were you? I was always small forward when I played in gym," said Kise, taking a sip from his water glass. 

Blinking in surprise, Kasamatsu answered, "Point guard."

"All the smart guys play point guard," said Kise. "Well, at least Akamicchi, when we all played together in gym class. It's the position that sort of maneuvers the other positions, you're strategy mapping the whole time, and they're more likely to be the real head of the team." 

Kasamatsu was stunned. "Oh... yeah. You're totally right." 

"So who do you think is taking March Madness this year? I always want to root for the Hoyas but they've really been off lately," said Kise, and Kasamatsu gladly settled into this talk. 

As they spoke more, Kise seemed to relax and slip out of his sunshiney, overly-bright facade into something far more real. By the time they got their food, Kasamatsu was surprised to find he actually wanted to keep the conversation going. 

Eventually they turned to the topic of the band, and when Kasamatsu made a comment about a particularly good chord progression in their new song, Kise clapped excitedly, a loud bright sound in the otherwise quiet diner. "You know how to write music, Senpai?"

"Yeah. That's kind of why I wanted to work at a music venue. I play guitar." 

Kise's eyes sparkled as he leaned forward. "Why am I just learning about this?"

"I don't bring it up often," said Kasamatsu, realizing that he honestly never really does. He doesn't share this hobby often. He's far more likely to talk about his gym schedule or sometimes playing streetball than guitar. And since he only really jammed with his father, he didn't really need to share that with anyone else. But it just came out here, drawn out of him.

"I'm glad you told me," said Kise, and Kasamatsu was blinded again by that model-smile. 

Weird. He wasn't pissed off by it like usual. Maybe because this looked a lot more sincere than he was used to. 

"Something changed here," Kasamatsu said, but not unkindly. "You're acting different."

"Is that bad?" asked Kise, his face suddenly looking very similar to a wounded puppy. 

"No, it's better," said Kasamatsu bluntly. "You're a lot more tolerable like this." Kise looked as if he was about to do his model 'grievously injured' face, but then pulled back and instead had a more sincere, mildly surprised face. _Interesting_ , mused Kasamatsu. "What changed?" 

Kise sighed, and wryly smiled. "Aomicchi had some advice for me. Looks like it worked!" 

"And that was?"

Kise shook his head. "My lips are sealed. He doesn't want word getting out he actually cares about his bandmates." 

Scoffing, Kasamatsu pushed his bowl aside. "You were right, by the way. The beef noodles were great." 

Kise eagerly nodded and pulled his wallet out. "Oh, Senpai, I've got this." 

Kasamatsu snorted. "Was this a date then?" 

He expected spluttering or a laugh, but instead got a low, somewhat nervous, "I mean... do you want it to be?"

_Huh._

_Do I?_

He'd just spent the past hour genuinely enjoying this conversation. He'd known this man casually for two years, during which he had only seen him treat his fans well. Kise had always gone out of his way to be kind to him. He had been gratingly annoying but a switch flipped that night that led him to believe Aomine had said something to him to change that. And he was attractive, both objectively and also checking off a number of Kasamatsu's personal boxes. 

Maybe it was how late it was, and how things seemed different after midnight because it was a new day, or how Kise's golden eyes seemed to burn brightly, hopefully, but whatever it was, Kasamatsu said, "Yeah. I think so."

If Kasamatsu thought the model smile was blinding, he definitely wasn't prepared for the real one. 

\----

"I don't normally do this," said Kasamatsu, his attention drawn away from the neon street signs and softly lit restaurants they passed as they went deeper into the quiet neighborhood. "I don't think I've been on an actual date in... years." 

"It's okay, Senpai!" said Kise, his smiling blinding even in the dark night. The light pollution lent a soft, violet haze over the horizon, and not for the first time Kasamatsu mused on how he hadn't seen the real sky in a very long time. 

He also hadn't held someone's hand outside in the street in a really long time. But here he was, being pulled along by a surprisingly strong grip. Kasamatsu had figured that Kise would be the kind of model (former model?) who wouldn't work out in fear of getting 'too bulked' but he actually was... somewhat built.

It had also been a long time since he was involved with... well, anything involving other people's _bulk_. 

"We're here!" said Kise, pulling a key out of his pocket, and Kasamatsu looked up to see a giant house, modern and elegant, behind a gate. 

"You live here?" asked Kasamatsu, somewhat stupidly as it was obvious that that was the case. 

"Yeah, we all do!" said Kise. "Hm, I see some lights on, I guess some others are back already." He led Kasamatsu through the gate after unlocked it, and Kasamatsu felt like he was drifting a bit, floating as he was tugged along to the entryway, his shoes removed on autopilot and slippers put on, and then he was pulled up stairs and then into a room, only vaguely aware of other voices around him. But when the door closed, he felt that he could only focus on Kise, who looked to be absolutely glowing with happiness, sitting on the edge of his bed. 

"Thanks for coming here, Senpai," said Kise, and Kasamatsu realized what the change was. He'd only ever really been around the singer in a performance context, directly before or after a show, and thus...

"You aren't sincere when you're at the venue, are you?" asked Kasamatsu, not trying to be a dick but not really finding any other way to say it. Gently couching words was not his way, but to soften the blow he sat down next to Kise and put his hand on Kise's.

Kise flicked his eyes up to meet Kasamatsu's, and as he had never been this physically close before, Kasamatsu realized that the eyeliner was slightly smudged by the end of the night, almost imperceptibly so, and he had a few stray hairs out of place. It, weirdly, appealed to him to see Kise not picture-perfect. 

"You get right to the heart of it, don't you, Senpai? Not really fond of my model persona?" 

There was still some persona left, from what he could see, and Kasamatsu figured there was one fairly good way to knock that veneer off . He slid his hand up the back of Kise's neck and pulled him in for a deep, long kiss. 

Kise jerked in surprise but fell into it, his own hands sliding around the small of Kasamatsu's back, fingers fanning out to support him. 

_Oh. He's taller than me._ Normally when Kasamatsu dated guys, they were shorter than him, just by chance. But he felt dwarfed somewhat, and when they pulled back to catch their breath, Kasamatsu had to look up into Kise's wide, golden eyes. It definitely wasn't unpleasant. 

"Can we do that again?" asked Kise, breathless. He was eager, but not obnoxious, and Kasamatsu was determined to dig out more sincerity there. So he pulled in Kise for another kiss, this time parting his lips to allow for more. Kise responded in kind, and it took Kasamatsu a second to realize that his head wasn't spinning because of the kiss (although it was indeed great) - he was being maneuvered to be on his back, and when he opened his eyes again Kise was hovering over him, grinning broadly. "Is this okay, Senpai?"

"Yukio," said Kasamatsu, breathing heavily. "When we're making out you should probably call me Yukio." 

"Can do, Yukio," said Kise, and he crouched down to rest some of his weight on Kasamatsu's chest as he pressed another kiss to Kasamatsu's lips. "And you can call me Ryouta if you'd like." 

Kasamatsu would have had Kise's hands not wandered to his chest, squeezing his pec muscles and then moving to his biceps, causing Kasamatsu to groan slightly in pleasure. 

"One time you threw a guy out during our set and I lost track of the lyrics because I was staring at your biceps," admitted Ryouta, nuzzling behind Kasamatsu's ears, his lips brushing the undercut line. 

"Didn't Aomine throw his water bottle at you because of that?" asked Kasamatsu, remembering turning back to the set that time to see the normally-put-together band acting up on stage.

"He was always annoyed I was pining after you," said Kise, who had found Kasamatsu's ears and was tracing along their soft curve with his nose. "I think actually missing a lyric is what drove him to do it." 

"Pining?" asked Kasamatsu, surprised. "You don't seem the pining type." 

Kise huffed out a small laugh, and Kasamatsu shivered at the warm rush of air that brushed over his ear. "I have been a very pining type for you. But that doesn't matter now." He pulled back, and his eyes were alight with joy. "Can I take off your shirt?"

Kasamatsu sat up and held his arms up, and Kise slowly, carefully, pulled it off, and then with his palm pushed him back to the bed. This still felt so hazy and unreal to Kasamatsu, who went from finding this guy to be kind of annoying but generally fine to falling in bed with him. 

Something in that thought struck Kasamatsu. He probably should address it sooner than later.

"Hey," he said, and Kise paused, his hands stopped just above Kasamatsu's chest. "So, uh, can we take it slow? I don't think I'm down for a whole lot tonight, or anything super involved." When he said it had been a while, he meant it, but he also wanted something tonight. He just wasn't sure full on sex was it, however.

"Totally fine, Sen- I mean, Yukio," said Kise, and Kasamatsu let out a sigh as Kise put his hands on his pecs to go back to rubbing them. "Can I keep touching your chest and arms?"

"Anything that would be covered by a tshirt is good," said Kasamatsu. "You- you can kiss too, if you want." Man, he was _really_ out of his element here, because the last few relationships and hookups he had, he had just kind of run with what was happening, and sometimes regretted it. But he'd initiated this, and Kise, for all of his eager-puppy nature, seemed to be waiting on his responses. "Do you me to do want anything?" 

"No, this is good, this is great, yep, fantastic," said Kise, and Kasamatsu snorted at how nervous that sounded. Kise didn't have to be nervous - it was almost laughable that he was. Was Kasamatsu not lying on his back in Kise's bed, shirt off, asking for more touches? 

He sighed, gearing up for a speech about how to chill (if Kise would take the advice anyway), "Ryouta-" 

At that, Kise seemed to take on more intensity, and pulled Kasamatsu in for a rough kiss, in which Kasamatsu fell pliantly into. His arms came up to press against Kise's back, and Kise pushed even more into Kasamatsu. For a second, it was just warmth, solid muscle, and the sound of fabric being rustled as Kasamatsu's hands explored beneath. 

Kise then pulled away to kiss down the column of Kasamatsu's throat, then collarbone, dotting along the length between his shoulders, gripping his biceps all the while. Kasamatsu felt like he was melting back into the bed, like there were a thousand hands touching him instead of the two, because everything was suddenly light and fuzzy across his whole body.

Kise, having worked himself into a straddling position, splayed his hands out on Kasamatsu's stomach, rubbing his happy trail. "I always wondered if you had a good happy trail," commented Kise cheerily. "I kind of have a thing for that. I figured given how thick your eyebrows are, you had to have good body hair."

Kasamatsu, boggled that Kise had been thinking of that at all, intelligently said, "What?" 

"I think there's something about genetic correlation in hair growth.... oooh, what a cute bellybutton," said Kise, who immediately focused on that. 

_I'm getting whiplash from seeing too many sides of him at once,_ thought Kasamatsu helplessly as he felt Kise kiss down his stomach, hands moving down to his waist and staying there, squeezing tightly. _Between our conversation at the noodle place, and then the walk home, and then actually doing all this, it's like his on-stage persona is just parts of him highlighted and the rest dimmed for convenience's sake._

He wondered who it was convenient for, that Kise kept up his sunny, loud, poppy exterior. Surely the fans want to see him talking music and basketball, randomly mentioning things like genetic correlation, and being genuine in his interactions. 

_Oh._

It was convenient for _Kise_ to hide that part of him. Because it hurt less if he got rejected. Which... surely had happened, for this to be the person he split himself as. 

And suddenly Kasamatsu felt selfish for taking all of the physical attention, because he realized that that was why Kise hadn't mentioned wanting anything. Surely he did - he'd been, in his own words, pining. So if Kise wouldn't say it himself, Kasamatsu would find out what it was. 

"My turn," said Kasamatsu, feeling bold, and Kise straightened up in surprise as Kasamatsu wrapped his arms around Kise and flipped them, the way he's had to flip people over at the venue when they were getting too rowdy or close to the stage. Judging by Kise's startled but pleased gasp, Kasamatsu mentally added 'manhandling' to the list of things to keep doing.

Following that same vein, he securely pressed down on Kise's chest with his arms as he leaned over him to kiss him firmly, nipping slightly at the bottom lip. Kise moaned, and Kasamatsu felt deeply satisfied he'd guessed right. 

_You want to be wanted, I think. And for someone to show how much they want you._

The night had developed unexpectedly, quickly, but not unpleasantly, and Kasamatsu, while pumping the brakes on some things, wanted to dive deeper in others. He did _want_ , he wanted to hear more of Kise's thoughtful conversation, see more joy in his eyes, and feel more of that eagerness. 

"I want to touch you - take off your shirt," said Kasamatsu, and Kise shivered, his eyes wide and blinking up. In the lamplight of the room, the honey-gold eyes, circled by now even more smudged eyeliner, looked almost disbelieving of what was happening. _Well that makes two of us, I think_. 

Leaning back, Kasamatsu allowed Kise to slide off his shirt, watching as it dropped to the side of the pillow. Kasamatsu admired the vulnerability of seeing Kise now on his back, exposed for someone he had (apparently?) pined after for so long. 

"How long did you... pine?" asked Kasamatsu, trailing his fingers gently up Kise's chest to contrast his rougher treatment from earlier. It felt like an arrogant, odd question to ask, but he wanted to know if it had really been so long. 

"Two years," breathed out Kise, and he cautiously crept his hands up. "Yukio, can I touch your legs?" 

Kasamatsu was too stunned to answer. _Two years._ That basically was when the band first started playing at the venue. Kasamatsu had barely started working there, so to him, the venue and Miragen were inextricably linked in his mind. He hadn't even been that aware that for Kise, the bouncer and the venue could be similarly linked. 

"Or not," said Kise, a suddenly very fake smile plastered on his face as he removed his hands, and Kasamatsu scowled.

_It's armor against rejection. If he's being rejected for his fake persona, then it doesn't hurt as much. Or maybe even at all._ "Yeah you can - don't smile like that, it's insincere."

Kise, startled, stopped smiling at all, and then burst out laughing. _That_ was genuine. "Oh dammit, Aomicchi _was_ right. How the hell would that guy be right about a thing like this?" He reached up and caressed Kasamatsu's cheek, laughing to himself. 

"He told you to be sincere, didn't he?" Kasamatsu stroked further up Kise's chest, feeling over his not-insubstantial muscles, noting his ribs rising and falling with deep breaths. 

"He did," confirmed Kise. "But don't tell him I told you, he will kill me and then Momoicchi will kill him and then we're out two band members." 

"I'll try not to destroy Miragen with honesty between its members," said Kasamatsu wryly, and then tipped up Kise's head with his hand, two fingers on the scoop of his throat. "Hey. The sincerity. It's good. I like it." And if that meant handling the fakeness the rest of the time, because that's how Kise kept it together in the public eye, well, he could deal with that. 

Kise shuddered and smiled, genuine, warm. "Oh. That's... that's very nice to hear." 

"I know we aren't doing much tonight, in terms of sex, but this kind of is a lot for me, so thanks for being cool about it," said Kasamatsu, trying to be as direct as possible, hoping that Kise would mirror that. He would like to do more later, sometime, down the road, but already everything had been so new and fast. 

"I really don't need a lot to make it good, you know, I count this as getting laid," said Kise, cheekily, and Kasamatsu sighed, hiding his exasperated grin with his arm. _Sure, we can call it that._

_"_ I appreciate it. And when it does happen, well, it'll be good too."

And the nice moment would have continued if not for the sudden shouting that erupted in the hallway. Kasamatsu rolled off of Kise, back in bouncer mode immediately, but Kise waved his hand and said, "I think it's just more of the band getting back. Aomine yells a lot when he comes home drunk, unless he's stupid drunk, which means he's fallen asleep." He tilted his head as the shouting, which didn't sound angry, continued. "Oh! It's in English! Americans, I think. Maybe the opening band? I want to go say hi." He darted to the door, poking his head out, calling out in English, and Kasamatsu didn't even bother listening to whatever else he said, because sure, why not. The night was weird enough. 

But it was genuine and weird, and if that's how things would continue to go, well, he'd be fine with that. 


	3. Luck Burns Its Candle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whatever the fuck you did, please fix it," said Aomine, stomping by with pieces of drum kit.   
> "The lights are perfectly fine, fuck you very much," responded Takao cheerily, looking down at his clipboard. "I just ran through their sequence."  
> "Not the lights, idiot, you broke our keyboard player," said Aomine, setting down a set of cymbals. "He's been moping around the house and then shuts himself in his room and just practices all the time."
> 
> \-----
> 
> Takao made a move two weeks ago, and frankly, fucked it up.  
> But, he realizes, maybe not as much as he had thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the MidoTaka chapter!  
> I hope you're enjoying this, it's quite fun for me to write. ^^

"I've got a guest ticket for the show tonight," said Takao, tapping his fingers on his iced coffee. "You should come. I know metal isn't really your thing but free live music, right?" He waved his phone, which had the images of the linup on it, at his friend who was sipping on his iced tea thoughtfully. "Come on, it'll be fun."

Furihata blinked at Takao, looking pensive. "I guess it'd be fun. I'm bringing my musician's earplugs, though, if it's anything like that rock festival in Seitama a few months ago. My ears were ringing for days." 

"Their sound tech was garbage," said Takao, waving his hand casually. "Ours is great, and our speakers won't kill you like they did at that place. I know you've only been to my venue to say hi to me at work and not during actual concerts, but it'll be fun, I promise!" 

Furihata chewed on his straw. "I kept saying I'd come see a show at your venue, but I guess it has been two years since you've started working there, huh."

"Time flies when you're on completely opposite schedules," laughed Takao. "You with your 6am to 4pm and then I got my 6pm-2am life." 

"So glad it's summer, I get a little break at least," admitted Furihata, smiling. "Private lessons are usually in the evenings and weekends anyway, so that's been most of my work the past month or so, minus today."

"So take a break from teaching overprivileged brats how to screech away on a violin and come headbang," said Takao cheerfully, and Furihata raised his hands in mock defeat, laughing.

"If you insist! What time do the doors open?" 

"7pm. Noise ordinances mean our concerts have to end at 11pm sharp, so it's a little earlier than most metal concerts. You'll be snuggled home in bed by midnight." 

"I can live a little and stay up til 12:30 maybe even. It's a weekend, after all." Furihata tilted his head, taking a sip of his drink and then pausing a moment before saying, "So, do you want to talk about why you've been really weird these past two weeks, or are we going to just sort of pretend like everything is fine?"

Takao folded his hands over his head. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well, to someone who's known you for over half your life, yeah, but I can't vouch for anyone else." There was a slight pause, and then, "You... haven't mentioned Midorima-san in a while."

Groaning loudly, Takao pulled his head out from its nest of arms. "Yeah. You got me. I... might have fucked up our friendship, a bit. Well, a lot." 

_(Two weeks prior)_

_"Bitchin' show, Shin-chan," called out Takao from the lighting deck. "Come up after you're done loading equipment!"_

_"I always do, there's no need to shout it," scolded Midorima as he hefted his keyboard up, taking it to the back room._

_Takao quickly gathered his items in the room, double-checking his bag._

_Wallet. Keys. Phone._ _Lucky item of the day for Cancers tomorrow (a candle). Chapstick._

_That last one was very, very important._

_"I'm doing it, I'm going to do it today, fuck, fuck, nope, can't, can't do it," sang Takao to himself, applying the chapstick and double-checking his bangs in his phone's reverse camera function. "He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me," hummed Takao as he flipped the chapstick in the air, and then let it drop into the bag._

_"What are you singing?" asked Midorima, stepping into the room. Takao startled and nearly dropped his bag, but caught it at the last second._

_"Nothing. You, uh, ready to head out?"_

_"Naturally, or else I wouldn't have come up yet." Midorima peered at Takao, and there surely was some joke about a lighting designer feeling uncomfortable in that spotlight, but the words dried up in his mouth._

Shin-chan knows. Surely? No. 

Maybe. 

_"Oh, your lucky item," stammered Takao, diving his hand into the bag and then pulling out a tropically scented candle. "For tomorrow. Since it'll be after midnight by the time you go to bed. Per usual."_

_"Thank you," said Midorima, reaching forward and removing the candle from Takao's hands. Takao tried not to focus on the brush of fingertips against his palm._

That had to be deliberate! _his mind screamed._

You're thirsty, it all seems deliberate _, responded the rational part of his mind cruelly._

_Curbstomping both sides of his mind, Takao grinned and said, "Noodles?"_

_"That is our usual, and thus, reasonable," said Midorima, and they headed down the steps and out the back._

_"So... the moon is beautiful tonight," said Takao casually, and Midorima stopped in the street and looked at him oddly. Takao tried to keep a nonchalant face as he desperately tried to remember if he got the saying right._

_"Not like you to comment on the moon, Takao." His voice had gone stiff._

_"Can't a guy admire the night sky once in a while? I work enough nights that I see it more than the sun, really." He waved his hand at it. "Hello moon. Lovely weather we're having here. Thank you for the moonlight. Really makes my complexion look good."_

_"You're being foolish, Takao," said Midorima, spinning on his heel and heading down the street. He was walking a little faster than normal, not waiting for Takao to catch up._

Did I fuck this up already? 

_"Let's get the noodles to go," said Takao, running to catch up with Midorima, who frowned and turned to Takao. "We haven't been to the park after a concert in a while."_

_"You're acting odd," said Midorima. After a few seconds of silence, he then said, "I suppose it has been a while. I would be amenable to the park."_

_After getting to the noodle shop and ordering, Takao tried to fill the awkward silence that normally wasn't there between them. "I noticed you changed your setlist arrangement. You had Akashi on violin less today."_

_"His little brother is feeling loud lately," said Midorima, less stiffly than before. "So we're doing more songs that give him singing parts. It's good, since we don't do those as often, worthwhile to practice those. At least Kise has stopped pouting when the spotlight's not on him."_

_Takao laughed, glad that the tension was briefly lifted. "Yeah. Remember way back when Aomine did that five minute solo that one time? Kise was frowning so much on stage. It was hilarious."_

_"Thankfully those times are behind us. Although if he could stop talking about Kasamatsu-san that would be divine," sighed Midorima. "I simply cannot abide to hear Kise talk about the man's biceps again."_

_Takao snorted. "Don't forget the time he wrote a haiku about Yukio's calves and tried to make Akashi write instrumentals for it."_

_They continued on in comfortable chatter for a few more minutes, and soon enough they were handed their food. They headed towards the park, the awkward silence suddenly back with a vengeance._

_"I think I see an open bench back there near the playground," said Takao, casually._

_Super casually, even._

_None more casual than he._

_Midorima peered at it as they got closer. "Hm, appears clean enough." Nevertheless he wiped it down with a napkin beforehand, and Takao tried to withhold a snort of laughter, failing dreadfully at it._

_"Does this amuse you? Do you know what kind of things could fall from the trees on this?" sniped Midorima, fussily wiping the rest down. "I refuse to sit in rotten berries or dead leaves."_

_"No, no, it's just, it's very_ you _, and I like that," said Takao, grinning, and then balked a bit at the wide-eyed expression on Midorima's face._ Fuck. That was... super forward. 

_Not like it was any less forward than what he had planned for after they ate. God. He couldn't do it. Or could he? Augh._

_He quickly sat down and opened his bag, rifling through to find the chopsticks. "Well, time to eat. You're probably starving after the show."_

_"Yes, Momoi wanted us to be there earlier than normal, so I had to push dinner back. She has a new opener for us next concert and is particular about which songs we will play to complement them. That's also why we had less violin - she wanted to search further back in our repertoire for songs that could balance out their sound." Midorima delicately picked through his noodles, his wrists expertly twisting to scoop them up with the chopsticks._

_Takao had taken it upon himself to get Midorima to eat anywhere other than a perfectly set table, and while it had taken six months of wheedling, Takao had gotten him over his rich-boy tendencies to scoff at situations like this. (Takao took a lot of pride in it, actually. Probably too much.) He'd seen Midorima eat from his lap for over a year now and still marveled at the fact that he had gotten him there. Even though Midorima, in joining the band and abandoning his parents' plans for him to become a doctor and thus estranging himself, had left his wealthy life behind, some of the habits still remained. That is, the ones that didn't inconvenience Takao remained - and Takao delighted in seeing Midorima eat street food like everyone else, so he had worked hard to get Midorima to eat like the rest of the plebians he spent time with._

_"Did it work?"_

_"Yes, we decided that we will add a bit more violin-heavy songs next week but less songs with guitar solos. It seems the band next week heavily features solos. Momoi refuses to let us listen to the music or know who they are - all part of her planning - but I assume Akashi got it out of her, so we'll figure it out soon enough."_

_They talked for a while longer about the band, musings on the next album, thoughts of touring. Takao always felt a bit odd about that last part- obviously he wanted to see Miragen get big, spread their music to other places, and grow as both a band and individually as musicians._

_But it was hard to encourage Midorima to go on tour when Friday nights, every other week, were something he looked so forward to, along with their hangouts interspersed in between. He didn't like imagining a future without them._

_Which explains why he was here, tonight, chapstick in bag, heart jackrabbiting in his chest._

_"Hey," said Takao, fumbling with his now-empty noodle container. "Uh, I can throw our stuff in the trash, but we don't have to leave right away."_

_"Yes, thank you," said Midorima, passing his takeout trash over to Takao. Takao balled it up in the plastic bag and tossed it into a nearby can, about twenty feet away. It landed inside with a resounding thunk._

_"Man, I should have gone pro in another life," said Takao, laughing nervously._

_The stars were out, the moon was gleaming bright, and Midorima's eyes were so goddamn green that Takao kind of wished he could pause this moment and stare at them, instead of say the words he had prepared._

_"You played really well tonight," he said, and instead of dropping his hand on his thigh, he let it fall between them, and it rested against Midorima's leg._

_No weird reaction. Okay. He had this._

_"You've said that already," said Midorima, looking curiously at Takao. "Are you sure you are well?"_

_"I'm actually doing... super great," said Takao, already feeling vaguely dizzy from what he planned to do in the next thirty seconds. "How are you feeling?"_

_"Quite well. The show was not overly exhausting, and the crowd had vivacious energy." Midorima shifted in his spot on the bench, and Takao's hand suddenly was pressed against Midorima's thigh. Midorima fell silent, and looked at the hand, and then back at Takao. Almost... in wait._

Game time.

_"Hey, Shin-chan," said Takao, softly, and he reached his hand up, and in a swift motion, trailed his hand down Midorima's delicate jawline, brushing a thumb past his lip. Takao then curled his fingers around Midorima's chin, very slowly and gently bringing him closer, making sure he gave the other man enough time to react, back away, pick him up and hurl him into the bushes if need be. But Midorima yielded, drawing near._

_Emboldened, Takao closed his eyes and pressed himself against Midorima, feeling his surprisingly soft lips and a slight gasp, and inhale - the actual first reaction from all of this._

_He pulled back from the kiss, and Midorima's eyes were wide, and not in a 'you just blew my mind with your amazing kissing skills' kind of way._

_In fact, he looked downright... terrified._

_"Oh," said Takao softly, his voice very quiet. He removed his hand from Midorima's jaw, putting it on his own leg, gripping his knee tightly. "I... I think I misjudged... something here.."_

_"Takao... it's not... it's..." said Midorima, stumbling over his words, and Takao was very acutely hearing the rustle of the leaves around them, the rush of cars in the distance. He put on a smile, one big enough to break his face in half._

_"I fucked up, Shin-chan, so, I'm gonna, just, ah, yeah. Sorry for doing this. We'll just... not talk about it? Pretend it never happened? Great," and with that he backed up, stepping away from the bench, hoping that maybe he'd hear something after him to make him turn around._

_He didn't._

_So he broke into a run, and didn't stop until he got home._

_\-----_

"So yeah! I'm awful! So please come tonight to distract me from my woes," said Takao, ending his story with a dramatic sigh. "Or, you know, murder me here with your violin bow, right through the heart."

"Sorry, I just freshly rosined it and I put a lot of time into that," apologized Furihata. "But I can shove my reusable straw through your chest if that helps get your mind off Midorima-san?" 

"That's not romantic enough. I have to die in style," said Takao miserably. 

Furihata patted his head. "I can stab you with a microphone stand after the show if you want."

"You're the best, Furi." 

\----- 

Going through his pre-concert checkup should have been easy - he could do it in his sleep. 

But it was really, really hard when Midorima was standing off to the side, looking stupidly hot while cleaning off his keyboard. 

Damn him and his... reusable cleaning wipes he meticulously used on it every key. Takao wanted to tease him about it but they hadn't spoken since that night and everything was weird. 

"Whatever the fuck you did, please fix it," said Aomine, stomping by with pieces of drum kit. 

"The lights are perfectly fine, fuck you very much," responded Takao cheerily, looking down at his clipboard. "I just ran through their sequence."

"Not the lights, idiot, you broke our keyboard player," said Aomine, setting down a set of cymbals. "He's been moping around the house and then shuts himself in his room and just practices all the time."

"Except when he goes out for his lucky items, you mean," said Takao, avoiding the accusation that he had broken Midorima somehow. Sure, Midorima had been freaked out by the kiss but hopefully he'd just... brushed it off or something. He wouldn't concern himself overlong with crap like that.

Right?

"No, not even then," said Aomine. "I haven't seen a stupid rubber duck or potato or whatever in like, two weeks. And him loafing around is killing the mood so if you could just, I don't know, blow him out back or something and fix your lover's spat that would be fantastic."

"Wait, he hasn't had any lucky items in two weeks?" asked Takao, alarmed, and deciding not to respond to Aomine's suggestion. He hadn't brought an item for tonight as he wasn't even sure Midorima would talk to him, or take it.

"Chill, he hasn't been hit by a bus or anything he's fine without them," said Aomine, waving his hand lazily. "But yeah, I haven't seen him going out and getting that stuff. And that's how I know he's fucked up over something, and he only cares that much about, like, four things, and one of them is you, so if you could fix this before the show, that'd be great because playing next to a sadsack means Kise will overcompensate and I don't want to deal with that tonight."

_No idea how I'm gonna do that...._ "But yeah, I'll talk to him." Takao glanced at his phone - thirty minutes until he had to be up at the lighting deck. He could probably, if he hurried and cut a corner or two, get through this checklist, and then have time to talk to Midorima. 

Awkwardness between them or not, Midorima not doing anything with lucky items for two weeks was weird as hell. Takao needed to get to the bottom of this, and if he had to embarrass himself by talking to Midorima this soon after screwing up and assuming his feelings were reciprocated, well, he would.

What was a little more humiliation anyway? It's not like he had much dignity left to scrape off of that park bench back there anyway. "Okay, I'm on it, Aomine," said Takao, dashing past him, not catching what Aomine grumbled as he zipped by. 

He skittered up to Midorima and, breathlessly, said, "Hey, look, we need to talk. Can you meet me up in the lighting deck in ten minutes? It won't take long, I promise." 

Midorima looked mildly startled, but said, "Yes, I can-" but Takao was already off, rushing to finish off his set-up checklist in record time. 

After begging a coworker to do a handful of items for him in exchange for future favors of great fortune (most likely taking an extra shift cleaning the bathrooms), Takao managed to make it up to the lighting deck on time. Midorima was already there, fiddling with something in his messenger bag.

"I know we haven't talked at all since the last concert," said Takao without preamble, because there really was no room for small talk here when they now only had twenty minutes to hash this out. "But Aomine said you stopped collecting lucky items and, well, that's really weird of you. What's going on?" 

Midorima stiffly twitched his mouth. His eyes glanced off to the right, through the view space over to the stage where the opening band was setting up. 

"Was... was it me?" _Dumb question dumb question dumb question -_

"Yes."

Takao's gut twisted. Not so dumb of a question as he thought, then. "Fuck. I... look, Shin-chan- I'm sorry, okay? I really am. I didn't mean to... make you uncomfortable. I thought you - it felt like you - and me- but I get it and I won't push anything I swear-"

Midorima huffed out what sounded like an angry and frustrated sigh, and dug into his backpack. He pulled out an object that Takao instantly recognized as the lucky item from two weeks ago - the tropically-scented candle. 

Except it was significantly melted down, nearly to the metal wick. But there was still enough wax there for another hour or so, perhaps. The blue, white, and yellow colors had melted together to form a pale, springlike green shade, marked occasionally by soot burns. 

"I haven't gotten any new lucky items since this," said Midorima, placing it down on the desk with a hard thunk. The faint smell of pineapples drifted over the space between them.

"Why not?" asked Takao, genuinely lost. 

"I can't lose that luck," said Midorima, and he sounded almost... pained. 

"What?" 

"I can't lose that luck you gave me," said Midorima, this time more urgently, and he stepped closer. "I thought, if I kept burning this candle, this one lucky item, I could keep that luck alive, that you still might feel for me, that you still would want to-" He exhaled shakily. 

"Okay, just, please, I can't fuck this up again," said Takao desperately. "You rejected me, right, I didn't imagine that-"

" _No,_ I just panicked and froze, _you_ said you wanted to forget it ever happened," said Midorima fiercely. "If you had waited, I could have gathered myself and we could have-"

Takao looked at the clock on the wall and saw that their time was ticking away faster than he could process. "Let's forget about that time."

Midorima shook his head. " _No,_ I don't want to forget-"

"Let's forget about re-analyzing that moment to death and do what we want in _this moment, now_ ," said Takao, and he gestured to several feet of air between him and Midorima. "Do you want there to be this space between us? Physical, metaphorical, whatever?"

"No," breathed Midorima.

"Good, because I'm about to get rid of it," said Takao, and he stepped forward and wrapped his hands around Midorima's waist, and pulled him in for a real kiss. 

This was a _significantly_ better kiss. It was likely a combination of the ease of both people, and that Takao knew that Midorima definitely wanted it, had said he wanted it, had burned a candle to guard his luck for two weeks for it. 

Time escaped them and it wasn't until there was a hard rapping on the door with someone shouting, "Takao, _lights,_ dammit!" 

"Fuck," swore Takao, and he looked up at Midorima. "Find me after the show."

"Of course," said Midorima, and he stepped back as Takao threw himself into his chair and began the show. 

Everything passed in a blur. The show went incredibly well, the openers killing it, and then of course Miragen shone, per usual, and Takao felt better than he had in weeks.

Minus the small incident of Furi getting sucked into the pit (Takao cringed - he forgot to warn him that this particular venue was conducive to pits) it was an electric, successful show. Kasamatsu swooped in and hauled Furi out after the pit did its job and caught him before he ate concrete, as it should, the show went on. 

Takao would definitely apologize for that mishap later. How much later, well, he wasn't entirely sure because all he could think was, _Shin-chan kissed me back. He kissed me back._

He just might have to take home the "Worst Childhood Friend" award by not sticking around afterwards, but given that Furi was back on his feet and resumed watching the show, he would probably be fine. 

(Takao didn't even see blood or anything. Honestly, falling at a metal show should really be a rite of passage. Furi ought to thank him.)

When the last notes of Mirgen strummed out on stage, and the cheers exploded, Takao was nearly vibrating out of his chair. He ended the show lights, flipping on the aftershow ones, and scrambled downstairs to help with breakdown. 

Because the faster that went, the sooner he could steal Midorima away. 

\------

"Just fucking go already!" yelled Aomine after Takao shot another mooning look at Midorima backstage. Kise and Kasamatsu had taken off a while ago (and for that, Takao was gleefully conspiratorial, and wondered if they'd end up back at Kasamatsu's or Kise's by the end of the night.) "I'll pack his shit up! God! I don't need to see you all drooly over each other."

"Well, you heard the man, Shin-chan," said Takao, grabbing the back of Midorima's shirt and tugging him along. "Let's go be drooly somewhere else." 

"That's _quite_ indecorous-" said Midorima, scandalized, but didn't really resist as he was pulled away. 

They left through the back door of the venue, and the warm summer air enveloped them immediately. It wasn't a suffocating blanket like some Tokyo summer nights, wet and thick, but rather, a comforting scarf. Takao inhaled deeply and spun around to face Midorima.

"So," he said, joy filling his voice as he tilted his head to the sky. "The moon is beautiful tonight."

Midorima paused fiddling with his bag and looked over at him. "So you were referencing that. I wasn't sure if you were aware of the literary implications." 

"Excuse me! I went to a good high school! I know literary allusions!" said Takao indignantly. "And clearly you do too, which should have tipped you off as to what I was doing."

"I... did not want to be overly hopeful," said Midorima, glancing aside. Takao looked at the moonlight shining in Midorima's hair and thought, _Oh he's too pretty. Far too pretty not to kiss._

He gave a quick look around to see if there was anyone in the immediate vicinity and, assessed that there was not. He pulled Midorima in by the waist, locking him in close. Despite the height difference, Takao felt cheerfully in complete control of the situation as he asked, "Are you feeling hopeful now?"

Midorima bent his head down and, in an unusually bold and impulsive move, tilted Takao's head up with his long fingers and kissed him soundly. 

Takao... no longer felt in complete control of the situation. 

Once the kiss broke, he gasped in air, asking, "Food and then-?"

"Yes," said Midorima breathlessly, and Takao understood that he didn't even have to finish his question - they both were in agreement for whatever the other wanted. 

\------

They swung by the konbini, Takao now more thankful than ever he'd basically trained Midorima to not to stick his nose up at convenience store food. There was nothing more that Takao wanted at this moment than to grab a handful of already-made meals, buy them as fast as possible, and finally be able to hash this out. 

"Your place or mine?" asked Takao as he snagged a container of tonkatsu and a handful of tuna onigiri. 

"Mine is closer," said Midorima, putting his sushi tray and melon bread down on the counter. Takao took a moment to admire his long, slender fingers holding a metro card, and wondered what it would be like to hold them. 

Probably soft. Probably warm. Definitely smooth. 

"Your change, sir," said the cashier in the 'Please just leave' voice, and Takao yelped out an apology as he grabbed the coins. Midorima snickered as they left the store. 

"Quit laughing," said Takao, still eyeing Midorima's hands. "You distracted me."

" Is it that unusual to see someone paying with a transit card?" asked Midorima, arching an eyebrow. "It's cleaner, you know. Less contact with coins, which are just carriers for diseases-"

"I was admiring your hands," Takao said bluntly, cutting Midorima off. The other man flushed red, and then looked at his hands, trying to see what could have possibly distracted him that much. "Your fingers are beautiful. My mom always said I had 'piano fingers' because they're long but yours are longer, I think." 

"I see," said Midorima, who then, in a quick motion, reached out and captured Takao's fingers with his own. _Oh. Soft. Warm. Definitely smooth._

Both men looked entirely stunned at this action, but Takao, reactivating his brain cells slightly faster than Midorima, tugged him along. "Come on. We're nearly there and I'm starving."

"You should have eaten during the show," said Midorima, whose brain had fully rebooted at this point to return to nagging mode. 

"I was too busy staring at you," replied Takao shamelessly, and Midorima's brain bumped back offline once again, and Takao laughed, because everything was so warm and soft and lit by the neon lights and he was _holding Midorima's hand_ and he was so, so, happy.

\--------

Coming into his room, Midorima tapped a small screen on his wall, and instantly loud music started playing. Takao recognized it as the opening band from that evening. "Oh, what did you think of the openers?" He set down his konbini bag on the desk and opening it, digging around for his purchases. 

"They were a rather good fit for us. Momoi-san did well in her research," Midorima commented as he opened up his own bag, pulling over a small collapsible table for the two of them. Occasionally Takao would come back with Midorima after concerts and eat, and then, more and more lately, crash in the guest room and leave in the morning. This sort of moment was not unusual for them - eating food together after a concert, listening to music, discussing the show - but the crackling energy between them was definitely new. Before Takao had thought it was just him, feeling buzzy and light around Midorima, his chest twinging every time Midorima glanced his way. 

But now he knew that it went both ways, and that fact made a rush of excitement twist in his stomach. 

"You going to keep playing with them?" asked Takao, picking up a piece of his tonkatsu with his chopsticks. 

"I'd like to," said Midorima. "Although I can already see Aomine getting into spats with their guitar player, they have an unfortunately similar energy." 

"Hmmm," hummed Takao, taking a bite of his food. They sat there in comfortable silence for a while as they ate, except, unlike the past times, Takao was leaning into Midorima without hesitation or playing it off as exhaustion. Midorima, in return, rested his leg lean against Takao's. 

"So," said Takao, scooping up another piece of chicken. "Are you my boyfriend now or what?" 

Midorima, who had just eaten a piece of sushi, coughed. "Excuse me?"

Waving his chopsticks around, Takao tried to hide his nervousness with bravado. "You know. The kissing and all."

"I assumed as much," said Midorima, trying to regain back some of his dignity, which, in Takao's opinion, was wildly adorable. "I - if that is what you want-"

"It is," said Takao, smiling. "Say, are you done with that?"

Midorima glanced at his sushi, with only a few pieces left. "Hm, I'd say so."

Swiftly, Takao lifted it out of Midorima's hands in a quick movement, and then tilted Midorima onto his back on the bed in the next. Midorima exhaled as Takao straddled him, his shoulders rolling back as Takao pressed his hands onto them. 

"How's this?" asked Takao, his voice bolder and lighter than his heart, which was pounding out a drum solo in his chest. 

"Qu-quite fine," stammered out Midorima, who reached up a hand to touch Takao's face. "But I'm... not sure where to proceed from here." 

"But you _do_ want to proceed, right?" 

"Yes, somewhere. But I don't know... exactly where." 

Trailing his hands over Midorima's exposed collarbone peeking out of his shirt, Takao said, softly, "Tell me if you don't like anything, okay?" Once Midorima nodded, Takao slid down his partner's torso, hiking up the shirt to expose a delicious expanse of abs and -

"You _do_ have a green happy trail!" crowed Takao triumphantly, nuzzling it. "Oh, this day went from great to _fantastic_."

"Was that in question?" asked Midorima, sounding mildly affronted. He cautiously pulled on Takao's shirt in an almost shy way, and Takao sat up, quickly stripping it off and throwing it on the floor. He returned to his spot from before, hovering above this newly discovered territory with glee. 

"I just always wondered, you know?" replied Takao cheerfully, humming as he rubbed his cheek along his boyfriend's stomach. He continued his exploration further down, losing himself in the warmth of Midorima's body and the smoothness of his skin. "You can touch me more, you know."

Midorima wordlessly did so, and Takao sighed as long fingers swept into his hair. He'd always had a thing for people touching his hair, especially during intimate encounters. And nothing had ever been quite this intimate, given he'd been pining after this man for two years. 

And now, Takao was under his hands. The lightness and disbelief washed over him again as he thought of where he wanted this to go next. 

"How adventurous are you feeling tonight, Shin-chan?" Takao rolled over and tucked himself into Midorima's side as long, elegant fingers left his hair and instead trailed up his waist. His shirtless chest pressed against Midorima's side felt warm, good, like it fit there well. 

"Evidently, the answer is 'quite'," replied Midorima, who was relaxing by the second. "Although given some of the things you've suggested we do in our time together as friends, I believe our definitions of adventurous vary greatly." 

"Says the guy who told his parents he didn't want to be a doctor anymore and instead joined a metalcore band with his school friends," said Takao in mock outrage. "That's more adventurous than anything shenaniganery I've gotten up to! I even have a degree for my job, I had to sit in lighting design classes and everything." 

"If we are discussing adventurous incidents, may I remind you of your sexual encounter with Kasamatsu-san that the entire band saw when we were loading the van -"

"Hey Shin-chan, I know you've only been a boyfriend for like, two hours, but bringing up your man's past fuckbuddy experiences in bed is in rather _poor taste_ -"

Midorima silenced him with a kiss, which stunned Takao's brain into radio silence as his instincts guided him to kiss back, slowly, deeply. The music blasting through the speakers provided ample sound to cover their sighs and breaths as they explored each other with curious hands and shifting hips. 

Takao slid his hand down between them, pulling his head back to meet Midorima's gaze. "Can I-"

Nodding quickly (on anyone less elegant, Takao would have called it "nodding furiously"), Midorima scooted back, closing his eyes once again in an effort to move and capture Takao's lips. Taking this as his cue, Takao deftly undid Midorima's jean's button with one hand and unzipped him, moving around the fabric until-

_Jackpot._

Midorima jerked and let out a soft moan before cutting it off abruptly, and Takao rubbed his nose against his partner's face, laughing softly. "Hey, the music's so loud and I don't even think anyone is back yet to hear us. And if they are, well, they can deal with some noise."

"I'd like to keep some dignity- _oohhh,_ " sighed Midorima, his composure breaking as he thrust into Takao's flexing hand. 

_I've been told I've got magical hands, so let's see..._ Twisting his wrist, he freed Midorima's cock from his briefs and began lightly stroking him, fingers barely grazing the warm skin of the shaft. Takao had guessed that Midorima would prefer a light touch at first, and given how pliant he'd become beneath his hands, Takao was pleased to have guessed right. 

"Bold of you to assume I care about anyone having dignity here," whispered Takao as he messily licked the palm of his other hand and slipped it between them, now grasping Midorima with both hands. "I want to see what you look like when you feel so good you can't think." 

Midorima did not have any response to that besides a loud, messy exhale and shudder. Takao nuzzled his face again as he worked Midorima slightly faster now, occasionally bringing his hand up to lick it and slick it more. 

"Is this too fast?" whispered Takao. The heavy warmth in his hand felt fantastic, but he was cautious not to get carried away. 

"It's good," said Midorima, breathing out heavily, tilting his head into Takao's shoulder. His long eyelashes fluttered against his skin, his cheeks developing a warm pink flush, like the one he got a few minutes into a good set. 

"You play so well," said Takao softly, and Midorima shifted against him, his breath speeding up. 

_Called it. He likes compliments._

_..._

_I plan to abuse the_ fuck _out of this._

"I watch you when you're on-stage and think, god, he's so good at this," continued Takao, slowing down his motions now, earning a soft groan. "Two years, I've watched you play up there. You - and every else - worked so damn hard to make your music." 

Takao had felt awkward before, living with this admiration of Midorima - and Miragen in general - but never speaking about it too much aloud, because then Midorima might catch on that his feelings were more than platonic.

But now? Laying in his boyfriend's bed, riding the high of exchanged feelings, touching each other - he could say anything he wanted, all of the compliments he had wished he could shower on this elegant, finicky, talented, witty, handsome man. 

"I thought, whenever you finished a show and we hung out, that this was what I wanted to keep doing- talking to you about music, eating noodles on a park bench- and whenever I thought I should ask for more, I thought, isn't this enough? Why ruin a good thing?"

"You didn't ruin anything," gasped Midorima, eyes blinking open. "I - I wanted this too - I just- thought you were with-"

Takao actually paused his ministrations and laughed. "No, that was a one-time thing - man, everyone sure likes to harp on that." He returned to his work, occasionally sliding his hand around to feel over Midorima's thighs and stomach. "This... means a lot more to me, Shin-chan." 

He was being far, far sappier than he normally would be - hell, during his fling with Kasamatsu, he'd just fist-bumped the man after and peaced out after some hastily thrown together midnight snacks post-sex. But with this, well, what better time to be disgustingly sappy than their first time together? 

"Takao," exhaled Midorima, and Takao could tell by his breathing that he was getting close. " _Kazunari_ -"

Takao decided, right then and there, that hearing his first name from Midorima's mouth was not only thrilling, but something he wanted to hear a lot.

And loudly.

"Say it again," he said, speeding up, pressing his face close against Midorima's neck. "Come on, loud, for me-"

"Kazunari," breathed out Midorima, indeed louder, his dignity gone, his hips pushing quickly against Takao's hand, "I- I'm-"

Several eager thrusts and then quiet, shuddery jerking, Midorima curled his chin over the top of Takao's head. Takao heard him try to regulate his breathing, and felt immensely pleased. 

It wasn't until a minute or two later that Midorima said, "Ah - I didn't -" and reached for Takao, who then lazily flipped his (somewhat wet) hand at him.

"Dude, I'm good for the moment." Was he rock-hard? Obviously. But weirdly, he felt content with that. He was coming down from his adrenaline high and felt spent, regardless of if he'd come or not. "Let me grab something..." He glanced around the room and saw the laundry basket, and nabbed an undershirt, wiping off his hands and then focusing his attention on Midorima.

"Couldn't have gone to the bathroom to get something?" muttered Midorima, his voice only half-nagging in his exhaustion. Takao laughed and continued to wipe Midorima down, and then tossed the shirt back into the laundry basket. 

"Hush." Takao snuggled next to Midorima, nuzzling into his chest. "This is nice. If you want to take care of my end later, we can, but I'd rather cuddle for now."

Midorima placed a hand on his back, and Takao pressed into it, sighing happily.

And then heard a door slam and someone, a woman who definitely wasn't Momoi, cheerfully shouting something. 

"Who-?" asked Midorima, furrowing his brows together and sitting up. 

"Not sure," said Takao, sliding out of the bed and swinging open the door to hear Kise say, "Oh, hi, Murasakibaracchi! You got laid too?"

_Too? Hah! Called it._

"Hey, Kise! Way to go man!" Takao called out, glancing around to see the lead guitarist and singer/bassist from the opening band tonight - one of them in Murasakibara's room, the other in front of the door. _Murasakibara too? Nice._ "Only took you two years to seduce my boy Yukio but good things come to those who wait-" 

Midorima darted out behind him, hissing, "He's going to be _insufferable_ if you egg him on-" as he hooked his arm around Takao's waist and dragged him back into the room. 

"Ow, Shin-chan, I'm coming back to bed, no need to rush-" cackled Takao as he was (in a not entirely unpleasant manner) hauled back into the room.

"Don't be stupid, it's not about that, put on a shirt before you go out of the room-" said Midorima, who was blushing furiously. 

"Oooooh, I get it," said Takao, his grin overtaking his face. "Now they'll _know_ what we were up to- mphhh!" Ungainfully cut off by the shirt hitting his face, Takao flopped back on the bed, giggling as he put the shirt on. He quickly darted back outside though, much to Midorima's clear chagrin, only to see Furihata at the bottom of the stairs now. He threw his fist in the air, extremely glad that Furi hadn't ended up in a dumpster or somewhere worse after the show, calling out, "Eyyyy Furi, nice to see you're still alive after the show- whoa, are you _with_ Akashi?"

Akashi, who never cozied up to anyone. Akashi, who once made a venue owner cry just by looking disdainfully at him when they were handed a poorly written contract. Akashi, whose "little brother" wrote some of the most terrifying and haunting song lyrics that he's ever heard. 

Akashi, who was right standing next to Furihata, closer than Takao had ever seen him stand next to anyone except next to his bandmates. 

"Oh, oh no, it's not like that-" stammered Furihata. He glanced over at Akashi, excitement in his eyes, and said, "We're just - going to play some music in his room-"

Takao read the room as the members of Miragen that were upstairs glanced at each other. And he was in complete agreement.

_This is super weird but if anyone says anything we will gag them immediately._

"Well, have a good time!" squeaked Kise, who then quickly shut his door, but then didn't lower his voice when he said "Holy shit he never brings anyone home, oh my god this is huge-" to which Yukio hissed, "Shhh!" _  
_

Takao was intensely torn because he never thought he would have to tell Furihata anything about Akashi - not that Akashi was a bad guy, per se, but, well, he was certainly intense. 

But he also _desperately_ wanted to see how this would play out.

"He's quite fond of him, I see," said Midorima, quietly, and Takao glanced back at him. He'd mentioned Furihata somewhat often enough when talking to Midorima about his life, but they'd rarely met, so this was a weirdly declarative statement to make. 

"Furihata? Of Akashi?" 

Midorima blinked in surprise, and then, still murmuring, said, "No. Akashi of Furihata. I've never seen him look that way at another person." He frowned. "I wonder if Furihata understands how... unusual that is."

Takao looked back at the two in the foyer, slipping off their shoes. Akashi held out a pair of guest slippers for Furihata, who thanked him profusely. As Furihata looked down to slip them on, Takao, hardly believing what he saw, watched as Akashi looked at Furihata with what he could only describe as... _fondness._

"Okay, well," said Takao, grabbing Midorima's arm and pulling him into the room. "We are going to let this happen, and, god willing, if this goes well, we just might see the day where Akashi has a significant other." 

"Would Furihata be... good for him?" asked Midorima, concern in his voice. He, of all of the members of Miragen, was closest to Akashi, and knew how difficult his recovery from their middle school days was, as well as what Akashi went through to bring the band together. 

"Oh, he's a splendid guy. He's put up with my annoying ass for fifteen years so far," said Takao. He turned towards Midorima and slid his hands around the other's waist, pulling him in. 

This felt good. This felt _right._

"So. Do you think the luck from the candle worked for us?" 

"Hm. I'd be inclined to say it did."

Takao looked thoughtful. "I didn't bring an item tonight... I wasn't sure if you were going to talk to me." 

"It's fine."

"Is it?"

"I'd say we still have luck from the candle." 

Takao leaned forward for a kiss, pulling Midorima in close, close, so wonderfully near to him. 

"You know, Shin-chan, I will admit... I'm feeling pretty lucky right now."


End file.
